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The mood took a serious turn when I began to discuss a new patient I’d just seen for a second opinion. I knew deep down she was hospice-bound, but I also held out hope Hector would see something I was missing.
“I’m sorry, Carolina. You are right with your original prognosis.”
“I knew you were going to say that,” I said with less enthusiasm.
Hector’s mouth curved into a half-smile. “Then, why’d you ask for the consult if you already knew?”
“I’m a masochist?”
He chuckled.
“Thanks for your input anyway,” I said.
“Anytime.”
Before leaving, I had to ask him about the fellowship. Since Dr. Keach had brought it up, I hadn’t mentioned it to Hector. “Can I ask you something I’m fairly certain I shouldn’t be asking?”
“I have a feeling you will no matter what I say.”
“You are reviewing the fellowship applications next year, right?”
“That was supposed to be confidential. How did you . . .” Hector’s eyes narrowed. “Let me guess. Keach?”
I nodded, a little surprised he guessed who had spilled the beans. Hadhetold Keach? My stomach churned at the idea of him selecting Dr. Keach over me for the fellowship. If he had, it would make sense for them to have already talked about it. “Um—” I cleared my throat. “How did you know it was Dr. Keach who told me?”
“The chief won’t shut up about him. I can only assume he told Dr. Keach, who was so kind as to inform you,” he said, his voice heavy with sarcasm.
I let out the breath I'd been holding. “Oh,” I said. “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Am I in the running?”
“You know I can’t tell you that,” said Hector, but he smiled from ear to ear and peeked at me over his glasses. That was all the reassurance I needed.
“Thanks again. I’ll get out of your hair. Let you get back to your Steinbeck.”
“You in a hurry?”
“Not really, no.” I bit my lip. “But I don’t want to impose.”
“I enjoy the company, Carolina. It’s nice to have someone to talk with outside of work.”
“All right, then let me grab another coffee.”
Instead, he offered to place the order himself and was back at our table with a smile I was glad to see again.
“Are you doing better—I mean since getting the divorce papers?” I asked him.
“It’s sinking in. I’m feeling calmer, at least,” he said and sipped his coffee.
“Good.” I smiled in a way I hoped came across as encouraging.
“I appreciate you listening.”
“Anytime. I’m glad you’re giving it one last shot.”
Hector’s eyes narrowed. “You are?”
